Friday, October 28, 2011
this moment
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day
October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Today, I remember my Seraphim, who we lost 2 years ago. I remember all my friends and family's babies who never saw life outside of their mother's wombs. I remember my family member's baby who lived for just a short time in this world.
I found with my miscarriage that many people simply did not know what to do or say to help me through my grief. Some had wonderful intentions, but said some of the most hurtful things. Others simply said or did nothing at all. That was even more hurtful. If you know someone that has gone through a miscarriage or infant loss, don't just ignore it. Do something.
Here are some things that were helpful:
A home cooked meal. Food was the last thing on my mind during my miscarriage, but I knew that I needed to eat. I didn't have the energy to cook. A few families brought us meals and they were well received. I cannot express to you how grateful we were for those meals. Even if I didn't eat much, I knew that my daughter and husband were getting some good food.
An offer to babysit. One of the things about my miscarriage that was so difficult was that my baby was actually on my ovary, which is called an ectopic pregnancy. I had to receive a couple shots to ensure the baby would no longer grow on my ovary (heartbreaking) and then had to get my blood drawn every couple days for a week, then a couple times the next week, followed by a few more the next couple weeks. Needless to say, that was a lot of running around. Since I didn't have set appointments at the lab, it was first come, first serve. Sometimes I would walk in and walk out in 5 minutes. Other times I would wait for 45 minutes before I was able to have my blood drawn. Some of my friends offered to watch Z for me when I would go get my blood drawn and I was very grateful. Family members offered to take her for a whole day the week after the miscarriage occurred so I could rest and grieve.
Something to make me laugh. Some of my friends had beautiful flowers delivered. That was very much appreciated. But the thing that I remember most was what my sister-in-law and brother-in-law sent to us. They had called us to see if we would be home when the delivery was scheduled, but I assumed it was flowers. Then Joe answered the door and started laughing. I was laying on the couch and asked what was so funny. He walked into the living room with an edible fruit bouquet. It was totally unexpected. I could not stop laughing. I'm sure that they meant for the bouquet to be comforting, but it was so much more than that. It was the first thing that put a smile on my face in the midst of pain and grief.
A chance to tell my story. Loss makes people uncomfortable. Having recently lost my Great-Grandpa and my Grandma, I know that people don't like talking about death. But something about losing a baby makes people infinitely more uncomfortable. I don't know what it is. Lots of people told me they were sorry and praying for me. However, not many people were willing to listen. I read somewhere that telling your miscarriage story can be almost as important as sharing your birth story. I had a few friends that were willing to listen to all of my story and while it was painful to share, it was also healing.
Time to grieve. One of the most common questions I was asked when I shared about my miscarriage was, "When can you try for another baby?" This was incredibly infuriating to me. I had just lost my baby. I felt rushed, like everyone thought if I could just get pregnant then I would be "over it". I needed time to grieve. And because the grief was so tied to my baby's existence, it was hard to let go of that grief. I wasn't ready to even begin thinking about having another baby.
Gentle words. I heard a lot of painful things that were meant to be comforting. Things like, "You're lucky you weren't too far along..." or "Maybe your baby was disabled..." or "I bet it's just a late period..." When you are trying to think of what to say to people who are grieving the loss of their baby, don't speculate. Uncertainty is such a big part of a miscarriage, the last thing I needed was people trying to figure out what reason God would have for letting my baby die. What I needed to hear was "I'm very sorry...." or "I have no idea what you are feeling, but I am here..." or even "What can I do to help?" Choose your words carefully, but make sure you say something to acknowledge the loss.
Understanding and patience. Grief makes many things difficult. Everyday things. Brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, even breathing is difficult after a loss. Many people were there for us immediately after the miscarriage, but a week, two weeks, a month later? Not so much. A month after my miscarriage I would still spontaneously burst into tears in public, still have difficulty completing everyday tasks. I would still get angry at every single pregnant woman I saw (sorry to all my pregnant friends during this time!) Life was just hard. But everyone else had moved on. I was in need of some understanding and patience.
Support from those who have experienced loss. Specifically women and men who have suffered a miscarriage or infant loss. There is a special bond between people that have experienced this kind of loss.
A name for our baby. This one was probably the most healing thing we could do. I'm not sure how something as simple as naming our unborn child could have such a healing effect, but it did. Since we named our baby after Saint Seraphim of Sarov, we also got an icon of the same saint. It's a tangible item to help us remember. No matter your faith or religion, you can get something physical in remembrance of your baby.
 |
| memory stones at a Dia de Los Muertos art show |
Here are some things that were helpful:
A home cooked meal. Food was the last thing on my mind during my miscarriage, but I knew that I needed to eat. I didn't have the energy to cook. A few families brought us meals and they were well received. I cannot express to you how grateful we were for those meals. Even if I didn't eat much, I knew that my daughter and husband were getting some good food.
An offer to babysit. One of the things about my miscarriage that was so difficult was that my baby was actually on my ovary, which is called an ectopic pregnancy. I had to receive a couple shots to ensure the baby would no longer grow on my ovary (heartbreaking) and then had to get my blood drawn every couple days for a week, then a couple times the next week, followed by a few more the next couple weeks. Needless to say, that was a lot of running around. Since I didn't have set appointments at the lab, it was first come, first serve. Sometimes I would walk in and walk out in 5 minutes. Other times I would wait for 45 minutes before I was able to have my blood drawn. Some of my friends offered to watch Z for me when I would go get my blood drawn and I was very grateful. Family members offered to take her for a whole day the week after the miscarriage occurred so I could rest and grieve.
Something to make me laugh. Some of my friends had beautiful flowers delivered. That was very much appreciated. But the thing that I remember most was what my sister-in-law and brother-in-law sent to us. They had called us to see if we would be home when the delivery was scheduled, but I assumed it was flowers. Then Joe answered the door and started laughing. I was laying on the couch and asked what was so funny. He walked into the living room with an edible fruit bouquet. It was totally unexpected. I could not stop laughing. I'm sure that they meant for the bouquet to be comforting, but it was so much more than that. It was the first thing that put a smile on my face in the midst of pain and grief.
A chance to tell my story. Loss makes people uncomfortable. Having recently lost my Great-Grandpa and my Grandma, I know that people don't like talking about death. But something about losing a baby makes people infinitely more uncomfortable. I don't know what it is. Lots of people told me they were sorry and praying for me. However, not many people were willing to listen. I read somewhere that telling your miscarriage story can be almost as important as sharing your birth story. I had a few friends that were willing to listen to all of my story and while it was painful to share, it was also healing.
Time to grieve. One of the most common questions I was asked when I shared about my miscarriage was, "When can you try for another baby?" This was incredibly infuriating to me. I had just lost my baby. I felt rushed, like everyone thought if I could just get pregnant then I would be "over it". I needed time to grieve. And because the grief was so tied to my baby's existence, it was hard to let go of that grief. I wasn't ready to even begin thinking about having another baby.
Gentle words. I heard a lot of painful things that were meant to be comforting. Things like, "You're lucky you weren't too far along..." or "Maybe your baby was disabled..." or "I bet it's just a late period..." When you are trying to think of what to say to people who are grieving the loss of their baby, don't speculate. Uncertainty is such a big part of a miscarriage, the last thing I needed was people trying to figure out what reason God would have for letting my baby die. What I needed to hear was "I'm very sorry...." or "I have no idea what you are feeling, but I am here..." or even "What can I do to help?" Choose your words carefully, but make sure you say something to acknowledge the loss.
Understanding and patience. Grief makes many things difficult. Everyday things. Brushing your teeth, changing your clothes, even breathing is difficult after a loss. Many people were there for us immediately after the miscarriage, but a week, two weeks, a month later? Not so much. A month after my miscarriage I would still spontaneously burst into tears in public, still have difficulty completing everyday tasks. I would still get angry at every single pregnant woman I saw (sorry to all my pregnant friends during this time!) Life was just hard. But everyone else had moved on. I was in need of some understanding and patience.
Support from those who have experienced loss. Specifically women and men who have suffered a miscarriage or infant loss. There is a special bond between people that have experienced this kind of loss.
A name for our baby. This one was probably the most healing thing we could do. I'm not sure how something as simple as naming our unborn child could have such a healing effect, but it did. Since we named our baby after Saint Seraphim of Sarov, we also got an icon of the same saint. It's a tangible item to help us remember. No matter your faith or religion, you can get something physical in remembrance of your baby.
To those who have suffered a loss, do you have anything to add? What helped you during your time of grief?
Friday, October 7, 2011
this moment
Inspired by Soulemama:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Monday, October 3, 2011
...makes me smile
Hello! Here's what made me smile this last week...
These beautiful fall days...
Celebrating the day Lu was born...
Celebrating the day Z was born...
Help from my family when I was overextended...
Birthday parties...
Organic brownie box mixes...
Prairieland chocolate milk...
New wooden toys...(that I'm maybe a bit more excited to play with than my girls are!)
Late night Apples to Apples with family...(my family is FUNNY!)
A nice cup of coffee with breakfast...
What made you smile?
p.s. I'll get back to posting links to cool stuff around the web soon....
Friday, September 23, 2011
this moment
Inspired by Soulemama:
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
One Year Ago...
I can't believe it's been a year since my Lu was born. I know that time flies that first year...I prepared myself to savor every moment. And yet, it feels as if that first year escaped me. Seriously....how did my little one grow so fast?
I realized that I never shared the beautiful photos my brother took after Lucia was born. Our intention was for him to be there to photograph the birth. I was in the middle of intense labor when my doula asked if we should call him. At the moment, the thought of having a person snapping pictures during my contractions really set me off. So I asked her to wait. I didn't think of it again until it was almost time to push. So....he missed the birth. I was really bummed about it for a while, thinking I would have loved to have the birth and everything that led up to it photographed. In hindsight, I think it was good he wasn't there. I'm glad he was able to capture what he did, but obviously my gut knew that I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with photography during my labor.
Here are a few of the photos...
This was taken almost right after Lu was born. I was in the herbal bath my midwife prepared waiting for Lu to come join me. I remember feeling so exhilarated...though you may not see that on my face here.
This photo right here is my favorite of the bunch. I literally gasped when I first saw it. I remember just being in awe of this little person that I was holding. And still totally shocked Lu was a girl. I was convinced my entire pregnancy that I was having a boy.
Right after our bath the midwife took Lu to weigh her. She used an old, metal scale. I remember looking at the scale and wondering how many babies had been weighed on it. So many. I also remember that I had washed our towels the night before and they were still in the dryer. I'm pretty sure I had to ask the midwife's apprentice to go get them out of the dryer for us in the middle of labor.
Here she is on the scale...I love seeing her wrinkly skin in this one. She weighed 7lbs 6 oz....just two ounces more than Z.
Still in the bathroom...Joe and the midwife dressed Lu while I soaked in the tub.
Joe with Lu after they got her dressed. He told me that when he got back to the room it was all cleaned up from the birth already. Those apprentices are fast! I love the look on his face here....exhaustion and joy (he worked pretty hard during the labor and birth too).
This photo is so interesting to me. It's right after my bath. I remember feeling so relieved and incredibly empowered...but I look totally wiped out. Our priest is praying for us and Joe is beside me holding Lu. Our doula is on the floor nursing her son. This moment felt strangely sacred. There was a lot of love in that room.
This was taken in the evening, after Joe and I returned from the emergency room. I had to go to get sutured since our midwife does not suture. Azalia had been out with her Abita (short for Abuelita) and Tia Sarah all day. They took her out to celebrate her birthday, which was the following day. Although Z was present for the birth, this was the first time she got to hold her sister. I'm so glad that my brother captured this moment.
Many, many thanks to my brother, Nate, for these after birth photos. They are such a treasure.
I realized that I never shared the beautiful photos my brother took after Lucia was born. Our intention was for him to be there to photograph the birth. I was in the middle of intense labor when my doula asked if we should call him. At the moment, the thought of having a person snapping pictures during my contractions really set me off. So I asked her to wait. I didn't think of it again until it was almost time to push. So....he missed the birth. I was really bummed about it for a while, thinking I would have loved to have the birth and everything that led up to it photographed. In hindsight, I think it was good he wasn't there. I'm glad he was able to capture what he did, but obviously my gut knew that I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with photography during my labor.
Here are a few of the photos...
This was taken almost right after Lu was born. I was in the herbal bath my midwife prepared waiting for Lu to come join me. I remember feeling so exhilarated...though you may not see that on my face here.
This photo right here is my favorite of the bunch. I literally gasped when I first saw it. I remember just being in awe of this little person that I was holding. And still totally shocked Lu was a girl. I was convinced my entire pregnancy that I was having a boy.
Right after our bath the midwife took Lu to weigh her. She used an old, metal scale. I remember looking at the scale and wondering how many babies had been weighed on it. So many. I also remember that I had washed our towels the night before and they were still in the dryer. I'm pretty sure I had to ask the midwife's apprentice to go get them out of the dryer for us in the middle of labor.
Here she is on the scale...I love seeing her wrinkly skin in this one. She weighed 7lbs 6 oz....just two ounces more than Z.
Still in the bathroom...Joe and the midwife dressed Lu while I soaked in the tub.
Joe with Lu after they got her dressed. He told me that when he got back to the room it was all cleaned up from the birth already. Those apprentices are fast! I love the look on his face here....exhaustion and joy (he worked pretty hard during the labor and birth too).
This photo is so interesting to me. It's right after my bath. I remember feeling so relieved and incredibly empowered...but I look totally wiped out. Our priest is praying for us and Joe is beside me holding Lu. Our doula is on the floor nursing her son. This moment felt strangely sacred. There was a lot of love in that room.
This was taken in the evening, after Joe and I returned from the emergency room. I had to go to get sutured since our midwife does not suture. Azalia had been out with her Abita (short for Abuelita) and Tia Sarah all day. They took her out to celebrate her birthday, which was the following day. Although Z was present for the birth, this was the first time she got to hold her sister. I'm so glad that my brother captured this moment.
Many, many thanks to my brother, Nate, for these after birth photos. They are such a treasure.
Monday, September 5, 2011
We are still here...
Hello friends.
It's been a while since our last post, hasn't it? I just wanted to write and say that I'm taking a little break from this space. We have been busy beyond belief. Health issues (relatives, not us!), babies, school, work and some house remodeling...all the things that fill up life quickly. I do plan on returning to regular posting sometime this month, though I'm not sure when. I am also trying to figure out what I want this blog to be about. I don't want it to be just another "mommy" blog. I also don't feel qualified to make this a faith blog. But I want this space to make a difference, to educate, to encourage and to open people's eyes.
To my readers, what do you like to see here? What are your favorite posts? To my friends who know us well, what do you think?
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